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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723543">gordon freeman rude moments</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/helmetkiss/pseuds/helmetkiss'>helmetkiss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half-Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Corpses, They/Them Pronouns for Gordon Freeman, just as a warning i didn't put too much detail but it could still squick ppl out, the original concept had nothing to do with alyx but i had to put her in because god i love her, this is the first time ive used this godforsaken site i don't know what the shit to tag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:20:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/helmetkiss/pseuds/helmetkiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>fineworkdoctorpussy on tumblr had this fucking AMAZING set of gordon headcanons and was kind enough to let me write a little somethin' based off of it!</p><p>in which gordon has a moment and gets to talk it out</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>gordon freeman rude moments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thank you SO MUCH to belle my friend belle for beta reading this and helping me out bigtime, give her some love @spectrum-of-annoyance</p><p>and tyvm @fineworkdoctorpussy for letting me use his wonderful gordon hcs!! i HIGHLY suggest y'all check out the original post it's *chefs kiss*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Coast is clear!" Alyx announces with finality, holstering her gun as she begins to shimmy out of the rickety attic roof and down the side of the house. She grips on any material that juts out, scaling the ragged building with a practiced ease. It's an old, battered thing, with dusky gray wallpaper that's torn and frayed at the corners. Openings in the ceiling are large enough to allow sunlight to filter in, dust motes visible in the beams; she can't get enough of exploring it. The two men who were flanking her in the search opt to take the stairs, meeting Alyx as she lands squarely on the ground with a grunt, brushing her sore palms against the side of her jacket.</p><p>Barney, who had been looking upwards with concern, huffs a relieved sigh and returns his outstretched arms to his side. "There're stairs for a reason, kid," he drawls, placing a hand over his heart with mock ache. "See these silvers? All of these are 'cause of you!"</p><p>Alyx snickers impishly in response. "You know I can handle myself, Barn," she begins with a sweet tone, causing him to put his hands on his hips. "I think you're just old." Making a show of ignoring his dramatized gasp, she walks past him to reconvene with the group, picking her discarded backpack up off the ground as she goes. Barney <em> tsk </em>'s and shakes his head before following her, ready to round the lot of them up.</p><p>Their little team consists of three resistance members whose names she doesn't quite remember, herself, Barney, and Gordon. (She's a technician-slash-mechanic, she doesn't <em> have </em> to know names.) She catches Gordon's eye, and they give her a slow blink of acknowledgement before continuing their study of the woods. Their expression is blank, guarded. Their group is on the outskirts of the White Forest, close enough to the city to have to kick around some debris from the citadel's explosion, and their mission is to scout for some nameless <em> project </em> Mossman had sent Eli the coordinates for. Dead in the center of City 17, of course. Not one of them are as willing to trust her her as much as Eli, but he's still on bedrest after a dangerously close call with an advisor, so they'd settled for taking as big of a group as White Forest could spare. This, of course, meant they needed to hole up somewhere for the night- they'd lose someone or be too loud for their own goods otherwise.</p><p>[ <em> In, </em>] Gordon signs, flicking their wrist downwards into curled fingers and wasting no time in leading the crew inside. The crumbled maw of the ancient building looks inviting compared to staying out in the open this close to the city, so the five of them make haste in following. Most members of White Forest had been briefed on essential sign language terms by either the doctors Vance-Kleiner or the vortigaunts, but it was mostly just recognizing simple commands and the fingerspelling for words like ammunition and alert. [ <em> Nothing they can understand me with</em>, ] Gordon had told her, and they had <em> almost </em> seemed bitter about it, but they had simply shrugged with neutral resignation when she'd asked. [ <em> No, no. Good. Useful. </em>]</p><p>The floorboards creak beneath their boots, a warm shade of wood that hints at a cozy home beneath the decade of grime and dirt. Alyx has already reassured them that the place is deserted, but they still tread into the darkness with a human caution, on the prowl for anything that likes to lurk.</p><p>"Dark as hell in here," Barney offers, breaking the silence. "I'm gonna put these lanterns to some use!" Announcing before turning on any small lights had become common courtesy for all of them, and a mutter of acknowledgement rolls through the group as he scrapes a match against the side of its box and flicks it into an open lantern, watching as the surface of the oil inside dances to life. A glow, cozy and reassuring, fills the air, but the usual whoop-and-cheer falls flat as the warm light illuminates the darkest parts of the room- including a man, long dead but hardly rotted.</p><p>He's slung carelessly in front of the entrance to a hallway, broken glass around his outstretched hands. Blood dried to a sore shade of brown surrounds him, and once the light shines the scent of death, so vague before, overwhelms them.</p><p>The soft murmurs from before are replaced by a somber, mourning quiet- he'd been a civilian, judging by his clothes. Alyx's hand comes up to cover her mouth tentatively, her expression softening into heartbreak. Barney frowns, every line in his face seeming to become heavier, weariness and grief tugging under his eyes. Gordon stares downwards at it, their eyes narrowed, grip on their crowbar tight.</p><p>Alyx pads forward with the intention to bring him to a gentle rest, to cover him with respect, but a rasp startles her into a stop.</p><p>Gordon is laughing sourly, lowly, their vocalizing foreign from a lifetime of not speaking. The sound penetrates the silent room, hushed barks of laughter turning the temperature to ice. Alyx looks up at them with alarm, stepping out of the way quietly as they pace forward. Concern is the first thing she feels, an urgency crawling into her fingertips and under her skin as she watches Gordon stride forward far too casually for the situation at hand.</p><p>Their laughter stops as abruptly as it began, and the sickly silence returns as the corpse's chest caves in beneath the weight of the HEV suit. If they notice, they give no sign of it, and they carry on as if nothing had obstructed them. The new splashes of red and purple on their steel-toed boots are indistinguishable from those that had been there before.</p><p>They could have stepped over.</p><p>Alyx looks toward Barney for guidance. Her and Gordon are friends, and they've comforted each other through many bad nights, but she can't imagine the toll that being a savior's taken on them. The more they had learned about the environment she'd grown up in, the more they had drawn into themself. The third day after she met them, they'd stopped smiling altogether. She's heard about them from her fathers and from Barney- how the two of them used to race each other through vents, how they got in trouble for smuggling pet lizards into their dorms, how they had the most gentle look in their eyes when they got to hold her for the first time as a baby. They're quiet, she's been told, with a heart big enough to make up for everyone in Black Mesa who doesn't have one of their own. But she can't get the horrible crunch and snap out of her ears, and it shows in the way she looks up at Barney, brown eyes wide and pleading.</p><p>"Uh," Barney begins smartly. The three others had excused themself to the rest of the house after Gordon left the room, wanting to make themselves scarce- out of the One Free Man's way, they'd say. Barney can't blame them- the guy's been back a week and he's wiped an entire city out in his path. He doesn't quite know what to make of the situation himself. "Why," he continues, stretching the vowels, "don'tcha go and set up camp for the night, Alyx? I'll talk to 'em."</p><p>Alyx smiles weakly, putting her hand on his shoulder with appreciation. She casts a worried glance where she'd last seen Gordon, purposefully forcing her eyes away from the bloodied mess on the floor as she holds her elbows. "I, um, I brought the deck of cards. Think later tonight they'll want to…?"</p><p>Barney gives a lax chuckle in response. Of course she'd be focused on cheering them up. "Depends on who's bringing the jokes. I know I wouldn't show if it was you."</p><p>She sticks her tongue out at him, but looks rejuvenated as she swings around the door and vanishes into the next room over. Barney's fond smile follows her, but it fades from his eyes as he turns to face the doorway. "Gordon," he mutters, exhaustion tugging at his tone, as he stoops down to pick up a dusty curtain, long unused. Gordon's demeanor change had been… jarring, to say the least. They'd smiled so, so little since Barney found them at the trains, and all were tight-lipped and strained. Barney misses the way their eyes crinkled when he'd tell them a corny joke. But he also knows it'd be unreasonable to ask for that back, not after whatever hell Gordon had gone through in the twenty years past and at Black Mesa. Gordon needs to know they don't have to be a certain way for White Forest, not when they have to be a certain way for everyone else.</p><p>He picks his way over the body gingerly, casting the curtain over him- more for the groups sake than the man's, he reckons. He knows Alyx has seen more than her fair share of dead bodies too, and even though that had never been out of the ordinary for her, he can tell it twists her up something fierce every time. Alyx, despite having grown up with gunfire and funerals being no stranger, has never lost her heart for better or worse, and it shows in how she holds herself the way she wants to hold everyone else. Like she'd never let go of them again.</p><p>He rattles open the busted door at the end of the hall, squinting as the setting sun hits his vision and rescues him from the damp, too-cool innards of the home. Once his sight adjusts he spots Gordon, pacing the leftwards side of the house with a furrowed brow.</p><p>"Whatever happened to respect for the dead, Gord?" he prompts, his tone lazy but his dark eyes keen. As he speaks Gordon's stance changes, their shoulders stiffening and their back-and-forth pacing drawn to a halt.</p><p>When they turn, their expression is almost unrecognizable to Barney, furious and intense. He's not sure why that made them snap, but next thing he knows Gordon's striding up to him with a purpose and aiming their crowbar at his chin. He's seen that same dead-tired and ragged look in many men, but all that anger and ferocity directed at him is something new.</p><p>Barney looks down at the rounded end of the crowbar and then back up to Gordon, who's fixing him with a vivid green glare. The bridge of his nose crinkles as he speaks- "Gordon Freeman, you are <em> not </em> pointing that thing at me."</p><p>Gordon's glare deepens and angry heat stings at the corner of their eyes as their grip on the crowbar tightens. They further their arm, putting as much intensity behind their look as they can muster.</p><p>[ <em> That man is dead. </em> ] They sign with their free hand, the crowbar wavering from the gestures.</p><p>"Get that outta my face, Gord!" Barney says, frowning insistently. "You're acting like a real bitch right now, y'know that?"</p><p>Gordon lets out an offended little huff of air, their crowbar falling onto the ground with a clatter as they begin wrangling with their HEV suit. Barney watches, confused, as they peel and pry to get the heavy outer layers off, working with a furious determination that he's only seen when the other was <em> really </em> about to miss a deadline. Beneath the suit is solid black underarmor, and of <em> course </em> they're wearing a ratty old shirt over it, but it's so bloodstained and torn that Barney can't decipher whatever physics joke had been on the front. He shudders to think of how long they've been wearing that thing. It broaches the question of how long they've been wearing the HEV suit, and that sends a twinge through Barney's heart to contemplate.</p><p>"Uh?" he prompts, his tone gentle and careful, as Gordon finally throws aside their heavy chestplate. It lands in the grass with a muted thud, and Barney barely has time to look up from it before Gordon swings their arm at him, their fist brunt against the side of his jaw with an unsatisfying smack.</p><p>It's not a forceful punch by any means- they don't have much beneath the layers of metal- but the surprise alone is enough to send Barney stumbling back, hand held gingerly against the impact site.</p><p>"What the <em> hell! </em>"</p><p>[ <em> Shut up. Shut up! </em> ] Gordon closes their fingers in front of their mouth with more force than necessary, a snarl etched into their face. Their next swing is easily caught, Barney taking their fist into both hands and holding it away from his head.</p><p>"What's your damned problem?" Barney's expression is stern, angry, but his tone softens deeply near the end of his sentence- Gordon's movements seem desperate, sluggish, and he noticed the effort Gordon went through to force the suit off. They don't want to fight, and Barney's is about to point this out when Gordon makes it obvious they think otherwise. Their free hand connects with the soft of Barney's chest and forces him to exhale sharply, grimacing. After a few moments of wheezing, Barney rears back- "Oh, that's <em> it-" </em>and lunges.</p><p>Both of his hands are braced against Gordon's shoulders as he pushes the taller man forward, causing them to stumble backwards and just barely catch themself. Their lips curl into a growl as they try to writhe out of his grip, thrashing out any limb they can free. Barney can see why they use the crowbar for melee. "Jesus, Gord, can you- ope!" He flinches his leg out of the way of a kick. "Can you calm the fuck down!"</p><p>After a few moments where there's nothing but the sound of scuffling, Barney successfully gets Gordon flat on their back, hovering over them with his hands firmly on their shoulders. Barney's hair is askew from sweat and a few solid scuffs against the temple, and Gordon's chest is heaving, but their anger seems to lessen as the creases between their brows fade.</p><p>"Are you done yet?" Barney asks, out of breath and unamused.</p><p>There's a pause, and then Gordon knees him in the chest.</p><p>"Oh, you little- ah, wait. Right." Barney rolls off of them somewhat sheepishly, freeing their arms so that they can speak. It's his turn to lay on his back, inhaling deeply- the cold night air is a good buffer against the sweat from wrestling in full combine uniform. "You put up a hell of a fight there, Gord. What gives."</p><p>He hears rustling from his side and sits up, leaning his weight back on his palms, to see what Gordon's saying.</p><p>[ <em> I'm so angry, </em> ] signs Gordon, their hands moving upwards in a claw motion. They don't look the part, Barney reckons- they seem exhausted and smaller than ever.</p><p>"...I can see that, darlin," he says, voice suddenly soft, trying to prompt more out of the other. "There's a whole lot to be angry at."</p><p>Gordon shakes their head swiftly. [ <em> No. I can't, </em> ] their fingers twitch as they hold the gesture in place, struggling with knowing what to say. [ <em> Why is it me? What did I do? I was just trying to get out. </em> ]</p><p>Barney purses his lips with worry, knowing exactly what Gordon's talking about. After the resonance cascade, when Gordon had vanished, all that was left of them was whispers of what they'd done in Black Mesa, stragglers and escapees telling tales distorted by years of misremembering. He'd listened, amused, at stories of his dorky physicist friend fending off ten houndeyes with nothing but a crowbar- <em> oh, please, maybe he </em> pet <em> the things to death </em>- and he'd listened, not daring to let himself hope, when the Vorts began assuring the resistance of the One Free Man's inevitable return. It had never really sunk in how much of a figurehead Gordon had become until he and Alyx had stumbled into a network of caves, decorated wall-to-wall with glowing blue murals of City 17's savior. He spent a long time in front of those paintings, brushing gloved hands against the familiar shapes. It had been so long, the sound of Gordon's raspy laugh so faded in his ears, it had made him wonder just what Gordon had done. It seems that Gordon wonders that too.</p><p>"I-" he stops himself, noticing that Gordon has begun to gesture again, their movements getting faster. [ <em> Respect for the dead, Barney? </em> ] The fingerspelling of his name is slurred. [ Now <em> you all want me to show respect for the dead? What the fuck do you think would happen if I grieved over every corpse I saw? If I sat down and mourned for everyone who was tortured in the Citadel? </em> ]</p><p>"Gordon…"</p><p>[ <em> We'd all be dead. </em> ] They return to their usual blank expression after a moment, their green eyes meeting his brown ones. [ <em> I want to scream and grieve to high fucking heaven. I want to cry </em> , ] they look down at their hands, wavering, [ <em> but I couldn't if I tried. None of you get to tell me to feel things I'm not permitted to feel. </em> ] Their words have venom, but their heart isn't in it, and they just look defeated. They have more to say, and both of them know it, but their movements look exhausted to the bone. [ <em> Help me put my suit back on. </em> ]</p><p>Barney does not help them put their suit back on. Instead, he scoots closer to them, scooping his arms under theirs and pulling them into the tightest hug either of them have experienced since the seven hour war. He presses them against his chest, scrunching his face up over their shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gordon," is all he says, punctuating his words by wrapping around them tighter.</p><p>Gordon doesn't move, nor do they reciprocate the hug, awkwardly hovering their arms over his back. But after a few moments of silence they lean in, allowing Barney to support their weight. Just for a moment, a brief second, where they relax into him entirely, slumping down from what feels like years and years of war and hurt. And then they retreat, breaking the hug, and push their glasses up their nose. [ <em> Barney. Suit. </em> ]</p><p>Barney chortles at that, placing his hands on his knees to heave himself upwards. "Alright, alright," he says, voice light. He grabs Gordon's wrist with the intent to help them up, then pauses, considering. "You know you're not fightin' alone, Gord? S'much as it feels like it, the world won't end if you sit down like we did just then." He pauses, and then sniffs, rubbing at his nose with the back of his knuckle. "And, uh, we have some pretty damn good therapists back at White Forest." He brings them to their feet, letting go of their arm. "It can be a start for ya."</p><p>Gordon blinks at him, then stoops down to pick up one of their arm braces. They don't know what to say, so they don't speak- how could they? That hope seemed so unattainable until he brought it up just now- and instead gently hit their forehead against the side of Barney's head. He winces and sucks in air through his teeth, muttering something about <em> you pack a whallop </em> and <em> big ol' shiner </em> , and this prompts the slightest smug upturn of the mouth from Gordon. [ <em> Don't be a baby. </em> ]</p><p>Barney whacks them on the shoulder with one of the hip pieces of the suit, which doubles as handing it to them. They sit there in silence as the last bits of purple and pink fade into a milky darkness, Gordon fitting the heavy metal bits back on and listening as it whirs back to life. They sigh, feeling just a little bit different.</p><p>[ <em> I'm still angry </em>, ] they say, looking solemn.</p><p>"Wanna come play cards with me 'n Alyx about it?"</p><p>Gordon looks around at the woods. The crickets have started chirping louder, a slight breeze rustling the bushes they've made a home in, and the chill nips at the fabric parts of their suit. [ <em> One round. </em> ]</p><p>Barney cracks a big smile. "Sounds good to me." </p><p> </p>
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